


The Roommate

by plaidagladalecki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College AU, M/M, Stanford Era, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidagladalecki/pseuds/plaidagladalecki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day has finally arrived: College move-in day for Sam. Dean comes along to help out and be of comfort to Sam, but he doesn't expect what is about to happen. When Sam's roommate bails at the last minute, he gets assigned a new one; a handsome young angel named Castiel. Sam thinks he looks a little sketchy, but Dean thinks he's everything he's ever needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This fanfic was inspired by a textpost of a college roommate AU, but in the post, it can be assumed that Dean is the one with the roommate. I decided to switch it up. You can find this fic on my Wattpad (username: lautotheren) and my inspired playlist called "There Ain't No Me If There Ain't No You" on Spotify, also at username: lautotheren. I hope you enjoy and please leave comments!

Chapter 1

"Dean! Hey, Dean, wake up," says a familiar voice next to my ear.

"Huh... what? Sammy, Jesus, what time is it?" I ask groggily, rubbing my hands over my closed eyelids. I open them just enough to see Sam walking over to the window before he jerks the blinds open and the bright-white sunlight causes me to close them again.

"Are you serious?" He asks, looking at me. My eyes are still closed. "You're supposed to help me move in today. I'm going to college, Dean, remember? Or were you too busy dreaming about some Asian beauties?"

"Yeah, whatever. Just give me a few minutes to wake up, okay, Sammy?"

He walks out of the room and I sit up. My vision blacks out for a few seconds, causing me to remember that I'm still hungover from the night before. When my sight comes back, it takes me a while to register my surroundings. This isn't the motel we were at the night before, is it? I think to myself. Yeah, I definitely wasn't here a day ago.

I'm not at all surprised that Dad isn't here. He left on a Wendigo hunt a few nights ago and hasn't been back. To be honest, the hunt is probably over with, he just doesn't want to be here when Sam goes off to Stanford. In Dad's eyes, he's basically the family disgrace. I drove Sam and I both here last night to be closer to the campus, and then I went to the nearest bar I could find to drown my sorrows about my baby brother leaving me in several shots.

I roll out of bed, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They smell okay to me, so I proceed to the bathroom, take a piss, brush my teeth, and scrub my face with a dirty-looking washcloth. Water dripping from my face, I brace the sink and look into the mirror. I let out a heavy sigh and look at myself in the eye.

"Today's the day," I whisper to myself. "He's leaving. He's finally getting out. Would it kill you to be happy for him?"

After a long pause, I turn to the bathroom door, shut off the lights, and go to get my jacket from a folding chair in the kitchen. I put on the brown leather jacket that smells vaguely of smoke and whiskey and check the pockets for my wallet. It's there, which means I also have a fake ID and fraudulent credit card, which means I'll be able to fend for Sam and I if anything goes wrong.

Sam is loading the last of his stuff into the trunk of the Impala, and I wait for him to come back inside. When he does, I ask if he's ready, and he says that he is. He must notice my forced smile because he comes closer to me and embraces me in one of Sam's famous bear hugs. We clap each other on the back and remain there for a long while.

"You're gonna do great, kid," I say to him when we finally pull away, clutching his face with both of my hands. "You're doing it. You're getting out."

He looks back at me and smiles. After a while, he says in a quiet voice, "I'm nervous, Dean."

"Quit being a bitch, it'll be fine. Now get in the car and let's do the damn thing," I say.

I hold the motel door for him and we both exit, closing the door behind us. We get in the car, I rev the engine, and we proceed onto the next half of what is to be Sam's long, monster-free life.

Chapter 2

After about three long hours of driving (made bearable by my amazing CD collection and a few gummy worm breaks), Sam and I finally make it to the Stanford campus. I don't even have to pull up to the place to know that this was not the place for people like us. These people have, well, potential. They never had to live lives like we did. They probably had present parents and a childhood when they didn't have to worry about what went bump in the night. Hell, I might have even saved a few of their asses.

As I drive up to where there are people who look way too happy and eager to help us, I look around and finally notice just how beautiful the place really is. There are hot girls in tight Stanford t-shirts galore and the lawn is so obnoxiously green that it almost makes me sick. Regardless of what I thought of the place, this is Sammy's new home, and like it or not, I have to deal with it.

I roll down the window to talk to a young blonde girl whose name tag says "Ashleigh" (with the "i" dotted with a heart) with a lanyard and a clipboard. In a bright, caffeine-assisted tone, she tells me where to drive to find Sam's dorm and how to sign him in. I follow her directions, sign off as Sam's legal guardian (yeah, right), and park outside the student housing area.

I pop the trunk and take a few deep breaths before getting out of the car and unloading the first of a few suitcases full of junk. Granted, we don't have much, but I did what I had to do to get him some actual clothing and bedroom items. I also may have snuck in some holy water and some of Dad's notes just in case.

Sam takes one of the bigger suitcases and I take another, and we wheel them into the building and down a corridor looking for the room.

"152, 152, 152..." Sam says nervously, beginning to walk faster toward the end of the hall, beat-up luggage in tow. I'm behind him, making awkward eye contact with guys who look like they know something I don't. I try not to get jealous, but I know that it's for the best that Sam gets to be around his own people.

We both almost miss the room because the door is wide open, blocking the room number from view. Sam knocks on the door and peeks inside. I follow suit. There's already someone there, getting ahead of the game by unpacking his things and neatly arranging them on white wicker nightstands. He has headphones on and doesn't notice us. Sam looks back at me and I encourage him to try again. He takes a few more steps inside, and the other guy turns around.

He has unruly black--or is it brown?--hair and striking blue eyes. As soon as he looks at us, I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I've never felt before. I push it away and avoid looking at him. He begins to say something and my eyes are immediately drawn back to him, to his lips. I stare at them as he talks, trying to figure out what this new feeling is. I'm suddenly snapped back into reality when I notice he's looking right at me. He must have asked me a question.

"Sorry, uh, what?" I ask. Well, I fucked that up already.

"Your brother, Sam, introduced himself. And you are...?" The guy asks, looking at me with the most gentle gaze I've ever had someone give me. He reminds me of a deer.

"Oh, I'm Dean. Aquarius," I reply. I try to act as casual as possible and pretend like I'm not sweating from nerves, but I know it doesn't come off that way.

He extends his hand and says, "Nice to finally, uh, nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Castiel."

On any other day, I would have thought to myself, "What the hell kind of name is that?" But today is not any other day. My thoughts were more something along the lines of, "Castiel. Of course his name is Castiel. It suits him. He looks like a fucking angel."

Castiel and Sam continue to linger and chat for a few more minutes. I tune in and out of what they're saying, trying to lean around Castiel to get a closer look at the little trinkets he brought. He notices what I'm doing and locks eyes with me, warning me to not be such a snoop. After that, intermittently throughout their conversation about majors or sleep positions or whatever, Castiel glances over at me and looks me up and down before looking back at Sam again. I think I even saw him lick his lips a little bit, but why do I care so much? I start to pay attention right when their conversation comes to a close, and I offer to help either of them if they need it. Sam says he can handle the rest of his bags, and turns to walk out of the room, but he pulls me into the hallway before he leaves.

"He's kinda sketchy, don't you think?" Sam asks, half laughing.

"I guess. I wasn't listening to what you guys were saying."

"I've gathered as much. Turns out he wasn't even supposed to be my roommate. It was supposed to be some guy named Adam, but he dropped out. Anyway, Castiel kept checking you out and he would talk about things like he knows you or I already or he's met us before. I hope he's not some kind of pothead."

"He's probably just nervous like everyone else here," I say, trying to digest the butterflies that appeared in my stomach when Sam acknowledged that Castiel was undressing me with his eyes. Well, maybe he didn't say that exactly, but, never mind. "I'm sure he's a good kid. You'll make friends with him."

"Yeah, at least we have some of the same interests. And, get this, he hates Zeppelin too."

"Zeppelin was one of the greatest bands of their generation! I swear to God, you two know nothing about good fucking music--"

"Everything alright out here?" Castiel asks, suddenly appearing behind me. I jump a little and turn around to face him, trying to play it cool.

"Yeah," I say to him. "We were just talking about how nice you, I mean, your smile, I mean, how nice this place looks." Shit. I look from him to Sam before heading back into the room, bumping Castiel's shoulder with a snide "Zeppelin rocks" under my breath.

Chapter 3

I wander over to Castiel's nightstands, once again trying to get a good look at what's on them; I can't help it, it's my hunter's instinct. Aside from several ornate silver crosses and miniature crucifix statues, there's nothing really out of the ordinary, I guess. Just then, something catches my eye in one of the half open drawers. I bend down to pull it open just a little, and see that it looks to be a long, silver blade...

"Lurking in my things again, are we, Dean?" Castiel says behind me, once again appearing out of nowhere.

"Jesus Christ! Would you stop doing that?" I say, trying to recover from the miniature heart attack he just gave me.

"Sorry. Sam left to get the rest of his things, so I guess that leaves you and I. It would be great if you could help me unpack my luggage."

"Yeah... Yeah, sure."

We linger there, sizing each other up for a couple of seconds before we both decide that awkward silences aren't going to get us anywhere.

"Uh... I'll take this one," Castiel says, finally taking his eyes off of me and pointing to a cardboard box on the floor near his feet with some strange writing on it. "You can take that one over there, it says 'books' on it," gesturing to an even larger box.

I walk over to it, examining the side. It's labeled in the same strange writing as the other box. It certainly doesn't look like the word "books" to me, but I rip the packing tape off the top anyway and start rifling through the contents.

I gather that he's majoring in literature or writing or something like that because the whole box is full of textbooks about it and literature classes that look like first editions. As in, the first ever printed copies from fifty or however many years ago. I'm almost scared to touch anything in case it disintegrates in my hands. He's got Moby Dick, The Crucible, Fahrenheit-451 and other shit I probably would have had to read if I had stayed in school any longer. Aside from those, he also has a few copies of the Bible, also insanely old looking.

"Hey, uh, Castiel... Where do you want me to put these?" I ask. Half because I really don't know where to put them or how he wants them sorted, half because I'm trying to make conversation for a reason I don't know.

"Top shelves of that wooden bookcase in the corner," he says, not looking at me. He's too focused on his own task. "Bibles on the top shelf, textbooks and other books on the second." There's a pause. "Please," he adds. Not that I was waiting for that, because manners haven't ever been my forté, but that additional comment meant something to me.

I smile a little bit, then snap out of it. I grab the Bibles and carry them over to the bookshelf. As I'm placing them in one by one, I notice the remains of something once painted in red on the back panel of the shelf. It looks like it used to be a sigil, but one I've never seen before. I ignore it before Castiel can teleport behind me again, but try to remember it for later; I get this feeling from him that he's always watching me or knows what I'm thinking.

After about five more minutes of not-so-strenuous labor, I've organized the books and Castiel seems to be finishing up with whatever tedious task he's hunched over. Sam comes back into the room just then, and he apparently decided that he could take the rest of his stuff into the room in one trip. He's got two suitcases in one arm and everything else gripped under the other. I walk over to him before his scrawny figure can collapse under it all.

"Woah, woah, Sammy, let me help you," I say, taking two of his bags and placing them on the sheets of the bed to the right of the room.

"Thanks, man," he says with an exhale. "Alright, I think everything's here now. I'll be alright to unpack everything myself."

My heart sinks. That sentence basically meant, "You can go now." I don't want to leave him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Plus, Castiel is here to help." Castiel gives a curt nod and a smirk from his position by his bed.

"Well, alright... This is it then, huh, Sammy?"

I embrace him before I start to cry or implode, or both. I can't let Sammy know how much this is going to hurt, although he probably knows already.

We remain with our arms wrapped around each other for what seems like an eternity, although even that seems too short. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to savor this last moment with my little brother before he grows up before my own eyes. Hunting won't be the same without him. I try to remember the smell of his hair, the frailness of his figure, how his head hits just below my chin.

"Okay, that's enough, Dean. You're hurting me," Sam says into my chest. I pull away.

"Oh, yeah, sorry."

I place my hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye.

"This is gonna be great for you, Sammy. It really is. I'm proud of you, but I'll miss you. I'll miss you like hell, brother. And if anything goes wrong, you--"

"I'll call you, I know," Sam says with a half-laugh, cutting me off. "I know what to do."

"Alright. You take care, kid." I say, clapping my hand against his cheek and ruffling his hair a little.

I walk over to Castiel one last time before leaving. "Take care of him for me," I tell him. He gives me another silent nod and we look each other up and down once more before I turn away and leave the room, maybe for the first and last time, maybe not. I hope Sam will let me visit him. Until then, it's just Dad and I, saving people and hunting things.

Chapter 4

It's the next morning. I roll over to look at what time it is, and the clock tells me it's almost 10:30 in the morning. I almost start to think to myself, Why didn't Sammy wake me up? But then I remember.

I get up and walk into the motel kitchen to make some coffee, and see that Dad still isn't here. I should probably call him and tell him that his other son is finally gone.

Coffee brewed nice and dark, I sit down at the table and open up my laptop to see what cases I can find. That reminds me, I need to look up whatever sigil I saw on Castiel's bookshelf. It looked like a circle with a weird "Z"-looking shape inside with several smaller symbols on the outside. It's not a Devil's Trap or an anti-possession symbol, because I think I damn well know what those look like by now. This was something entirely different.

After a few minutes of flipping through pages and pages of Dad's old notes, I stumble upon a scrappy doodle of what could be the symbol I'm looking for. The one Dad was referencing must have been old and worn down too, but it looks like he did the best he could. There's a few rushed-looking phrases next to the drawing about banishing and... Does that say angels? I almost let out a chuckle.

"Angels don't exist," I whisper to myself. "I mean, Mom used to say stuff to me about guardian angels and shit, but I never believed any of it. There's no way... Wait a minute, does Castiel have some connection with angels?"

I turn back to my laptop and search "angel sigils", and sure enough, the one I'm looking for shows up as one of the first results. I click on its link, and the site tells me something about how it banishes angels. The user of the sigil cuts their hand and draws the sigil in blood on a surface, and when an angel is nearby, the person presses their cut hand onto the sigil and it banishes the angel back to heaven.

"What the hell? Dad always told me angels weren't real. Either Castiel is an angel, he has beef with angels, or whoever owned that old bookshelf last had some problems with the wings upstairs... I should call Sam," I say again to myself, talking to no one.

I pick up my phone and start to dial Sam's number, but I stop.

It's his first day of school, dumbass. Don't call him.

Right... I make plans to sneak into his dorm room this afternoon and snoop around a little. Considering, last I checked, no hunter has ever encountered an angel before, I have no idea what this Castiel kid is up to. Either he's one of us or he's not. One way or another, Sammy could be in danger.

Sam hasn't called or texted, which hopefully means Castiel hasn't tried anything smart. I loiter around for a few more minutes before realizing that if I leave now, I can get there when the students are (hopefully) on their lunch breaks and not back in their rooms. I shove my laptop into my backpack, sling it over my shoulder, get in the Impala and start driving.

A few minutes into the drive, I think to myself, Why am I doing this? Is it because I'm worried about Sam? Yes. Will I be really disappointed and embarrassed if Castiel finds me mysteriously in his room? No.

I decide that whichever way this plan turns out, I won't be mad about it. I'm going to scope out Sam's room to see if there's anything fishy, and if Castiel happens to show up, then oh, well. I just gotta make sure he's okay and maybe warn him about this angel lore I just found, even though I told Castiel to look out for him.

...

I pull into the Stanford parking lot, check myself in as a visitor, and give a flirtatious smile to the girl at the front desk to hopefully dash any of her possible suspicions about me. I remember where Sam's dorm is and head over to it down the hall. I seem to be in luck, because no one's home.

I slowly open the door, pulling the gun out of my back jean pocket that I put there earlier. I point it around the room in a few different directions, then conclude that there's nothing and no one in the room. I start by going back to that bookshelf and looking at the dark red paint. It's still there, and now that I'm taking a good look at it again, it looks exactly like the image I found online. Then, I remember that silver blade I saw--or at least, thought I saw--in the drawer of Castiel's nightstand. I walk over to it and gently pull open the drawer. I barely get a good look at it when--

"Dean?"

"Jesus, fuck!" I exclaim, jumping up and almost closing my fingers in the drawer.

"Dean, what are you doing looking through my drawers?"

"That's beside the point, man, where the hell did you come from? I didn't even hear you open the door!"

"I came to get one of my textbooks. I have a class in a few minutes."

"Right, well, I, uh... Thought I left my wallet here yesterday." I dig through my right jacket pocket and pull it out. "Found it."

There's a pause, like Castiel is trying to decide if he should call the cops on me or not.

"That's not really why you're here, is it?"

Another silence. Do I lie again or just tell him the truth?

"Are you a hunter?" Neither. Avoid the truth completely. Fuckin' smooth.

"Am I... What? A hunter?"

"Yeah, man, are you a hunter?" I ask.

He takes a glance at the pistol I'm still holding and says, "I mean, I guess I've been duck hunting once or twice--"

I put the gun on safety, slip it back into my pocket, and put my hands up.

"Look, I'm not here to hurt you, Castiel, alright? Don't lie to me here, okay? I saw that sigil on your bookshelf and that long-ass silver blade in your drawer, not to mention your creepy Jesus fetish or whatever, considering your collection of a thousand crosses and Bibles."

He lets his guard down and sighs, deciding the same thing I was just a moment ago.

"Not necessarily. I mean, that wasn't the plan, but I guess I have some explaining to do. Here," He pats a spot next to him on his bed and sits down. "Sit down and I'll fill you in."

I sit down on the indented part of the sheets where he patted, not knowing what the hell I'm about to get myself into.

Castiel takes a deep breath and says, "I'm an angel. Your guardian angel, actually."

"Nuh-uh. Impossible. I've seen a lot of things in my huntin' days, Castiel, but not--"

"You can call me Cas, by the way, it sounds less Heavenly. And, yeah, I know, hunters aren't necessarily the type to believe in angels. Demons are a piece of cake, sure, but not--"

"Again, not my point, Cas. I have two questions: Why do you have all that angel-banishing shit, and do I need to gank you right here on this bed before you hurt my brother?"

"Alright, alright. I have all of that stuff because I decided to try out being human. Get an education, embrace humanity, fall in love, you know. Well, when I decided to leave, the others weren't too happy about that, so I stole an angel blade and drew that sigil in my blood so I could be prepared if they ever came for me."

So... definitely not red paint. More like Castiel's own damn blood.

"And, my other question, do I need to gank you or not?"

"I would like to say 'no'. I'm not here to hurt you or Sam. Like I said, I'm actually here to protect you. You two are big names in Heaven, and I'm fulfilling two wishes at a time: Protecting you and your brother and trying to be human."

There is another silence, but this time, not awkward or anything. I'm trying to soak all of this in and decide what to do with it, and I think Cas recognizes that. Maybe I won't shoot him in the head right now, but I'm definitely not letting him get off easy. Besides, I still have a weird soft spot for him, and I'm trying to swallow both the adrenaline rush I just had and the feeling in my stomach I get whenever I'm around him. And right now, that feeling is more prominent than ever, especially since I'm sitting so close to him.

I look down and realize that our hands are overlapping.

"Oh, sorry," I say, pulling my hand away and running it through my hair as a backup plan.

"No worries," Cas says, looking up at me and giving me that same gentle smile he always gives.

"Well, uh, thanks for, uh, explaining all that to me, I guess. I better go." I get up and walk away. Before I can take more than a few steps, Cas grabs my hand and turns me around.

"I-- I'll take care of Sam, okay? I promise," he says, once again doing his famous work of eyeing me up. "And come back soon, just to visit." He gives me a wink and a small smirk and drops my hand.

"I will," I say. "Get to your class, Cas. And learn something. About humanity, maybe." I return the wink and exit the room.

Chapter 5

When I finally get back to the motel a couple of hours later, I notice there's a note on the kitchen table. I look around to make sure there's nobody else in the room with me, and then take a few wary steps toward the table. I pick up the note and read it:

555-3758 - Cas.

"Did this son-of-a-bitch really teleport over to my goddamn motel room to give me his number?" I ask myself. I didn't ask him, but I can assume that angels have that skill, considering he's popped up behind me like a Whack-A-Mole about twice now. I will admit, though, that that is one hell of a way to flirt.

Hang on, is he flirting with me? I think to myself. I mean, he didn't seem to care when our hands were touching, and he winked at me, and he does have that thing about groping me with his eyes...

An even bigger question is, "Do I like that he wants to get together?" I guess I experimented a little on a drunken night or two, but I ignored that. I pushed it away. I was straight as a pole all throughout my adolescence. I had had at least ten girlfriends by the time I was sixteen. Do I like Cas?

"I need a beer," I sigh to myself. I grab one from the fridge, pop it open, and sit down at the table to mull things over. I conclude that Cas is, in fact, trying to get together sometime and wants me to call him. I guess I will, I mean, what's the worst that can happen? Maybe he's not even trying to get together in a romantic way. Hell, why would I even think of that? I'll call him sometime and just go with the flow of it. I don't want to call or text right now, though. That seems pretty desperate. I'll wait until tomorrow, on the weekend.

I strip down to my boxers, hop into bed with my beer, and channel surf for a while until I find something good. I decide that The Notebook seems like a good choice (I love chick flicks) and watch until I fall asleep.

...

The next morning, I'm woken up by the sound of my phone ringing on the bedside table next to me. I jolt awake and look over at the screen to see that it's Sam calling. I pick up.

"Sammy?" I say into the receiver.

"Hey, Dean. I just wanted to call to tell you about my first days at school."

"Oh, yeah, sure! Tell me all about it!" I reply, trying to sound as lively as possible. I really do want to hear about Sam's experience, even if it is early, because I didn't get to see him yesterday when I broke into his dorm room.

"Well, actually, before I do that, I found something on Castiel's bookshelf that I think you should check out."

"Oh, yeah? What is it?" I already know what he's going to say, but I don't want to let him know that I do. I don't want him to know that he's two days into college and I already creeped on his roommate's stuff.

"It looks like a sigil. It's in this dark red color on the back panel, and I think I've seen something like it in Dad's notes. Would you mind looking it up for me?"

"Yeah, no problem. Describe it to me."

I put the phone down and let him talk while I stretch in bed a little. When I come back, he's almost finished talking.

"Yeah, I'm looking it up right now," I say, falling back into my pillow and definitely not searching through any notes. "Oh, here it is. Yeah, Dad's notes just say he saw one like it a couple years back and it turned out to be nothing. It's a fake sigil made up for some horror movie from a while ago."

"Oh... Then, false alarm, I guess. Sorry about that, you were probably still sleeping,"

"It's no problem, Sammy," I reply. I don't care that he woke me up. I'm proud that he noticed the same thing I did and asked me to check it out. "Still want to tell me all about those first days?"

...

We talk for the next twenty minutes about Sam's professors and the friends he's making and how he likes it there. He seems to be fitting in okay, which is good. I knew he would.

The silence and deep exhale I take after hanging up gives me time for another memory to rush back into my mind. Cas. I should probably call him... Later.

I cruise the internet and local papers for possible cases until about eleven AM. I find a story about a couple getting killed and their apartment having no signs of entry, but decide there's enough hunters in the area that can deal with it. Probably. I'm getting too antsy, so I decide to just call him and see if he wants to grab a burger or something. It's almost lunch time.

I grab my phone and the paper with Cas' number on it and punch in the digits. I hold the phone up to my ear and it rings three times before a familiar voice picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cas. It's Dean."

"Oh, hello, Dean."

"Hey, uh... I was wondering... uh..." Why is this so damn hard? "I was wondering if you would maybe, I don't know, you don't have to, but I mean--"

"I would love to, Dean."

"You... you would?"

"Absolutely. Where are we going?"

"A diner about an hour south of your place? We can meet in the middle. It's called the Mars Diner."

"Sounds great. I'll see you in about an hour and a half," says Cas. I can hear the smile in his voice.

"See you then, Cas," I reply. There's a little silence before I hang up first. I guess silences are our thing.

I don't know what it is about this guy, but every time I talk to him, I make a fool of myself. He's just got this grip on me that I can't shake. Not gonna lie, though, I kinda like it.

Chapter 6

"So, how do you like the place?" I ask Cas. The Mars Diner is a joint I took Sammy to on his birthday several years ago, when we were kids. It's got goofy alien decorations everywhere and UFO's painted on the ceiling, but it's a conversation starter.

"I like it. Thanks for bringing me here," Cas says with a smile, taking another sip of his vanilla milkshake. I swear, it's mesmerizing watching him do even simple things.

We finish up our lunches (bacon burger for me, salad for him), I get the check, and we sit and talk for a few more minutes.

"So, Cas, I gotta ask... Is teleporting a part of the whole angel package?" I asked because I really was curious, and also because I was trying to make conversation.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess, if you wanna call it that. Sorry I scared you so much with it."

"Cool. It's kinda endearing, actually. Plus, I gotta give you props for that amazing way of giving me your number. I was truly impressed, Cas, I was," I say, looking at him. It's nice, just smiling at each other and observing the lines on each other's faces. I break the quiet by asking, "Do you wanna come back to my place? Watch a movie, maybe, hang out for a while?"

"I, uh... Sure, we can do that," he replies with a smirk.

"I know you got homework and shit to do, probably, but I'd like to, you know, hang out one-on-one for a while."

"No, no, I don't have anything to do. Let's go," Cas says reassuringly. I can tell he wants to go, but there's still a hesitation lingering in his tone. I ignore it and decide to deal with it later. Right now, I'm bringing a hot angel back to my dingy motel room. We both get up from the table and walk out to our cars, parked right next to each other outside the double glass doors, but not before giving a smile or two to the staff and a "thank you, have a nice day".

I tell him to follow me, and he trails behind me the whole way back to the motel. I was nervous he would bail and take a wrong turn on purpose, but he never did.

...

We pull into the motel parking lot side-by-side. I get out first so that I can jog up to the room and hold the door for him, and he walks through with a "thank you, Dean".

"So, uh, what kind of movies do you like?" I ask him. We're both standing there awkwardly, with our hands in our pockets. God, this is my first middle school date all over again.

"Any kind you like. I'm not a big movie watcher, so anything sounds good to me."

I flop down on the mustard-colored couch in front of a mediocre-sized television, motioning for him to sit down next to me. He does, but not very close. I grab the remote and flip through a few on-demand channels with limited selection before I find the perfect flick--the first Spider-Man movie.

"You ever seen this one?" I ask.

"No... I wasn't aware that a person could be both a spider and a man."

"He's not really a spider and a man. He's a superhero, and he gets bit by... You'll just have to watch it. Spidey's not as good as Batman, but he's still cool."

This used to be one of Sammy's favorite superhero movies, and I've watched it with him about twenty times too many. I know all the good parts and all the romantic parts, too. I thought I wasn't gonna be into Cas in that way, but I'm smitten. He smells like rain and just generally the color blue, and even though he makes me nervous as hell to be around him, he comforts me, in a way. I mean, he is my guardian angel, after all, so I guess he's doing his job alright. And, he's wearing this navy blue sweatshirt that brings out his eyes, and his lips are hypnotizing to watch when he's talking. They're so plush and soft-looking and, fuck, I really like him.

I start the movie, but spend the whole time not focusing on Tobey Maguire's shitty acting, and instead on Castiel watching Tobey Maguire's shitty acting. He's leaned forward with his chin propped up on his folded hands, watching the story unfold intently and with squinted eyes. I scoot closer to him and closer to him still, and Cas's eyes are still glued to the screen. Finally, I work up the nerve to put my arm around him. When I do, he jumps a little, startled. I guess he really is interested in this movie, I think to myself. I start to worry that I fucked something up right when Cas finally gives up his previous pose and leans into my side, resting his head on my shoulder.

We remain like that for the rest of the movie, Cas's dark hair brushing against my stubble. I can smell it, and it smells like a dryer sheet. He smells clean, he smells whole. I give up my hand's resting place on Cas' shoulder and start running my fingers through his hair. Slowly, softly, I comb through his ebony hair with my calloused fingers. We're so opposite of each other, but I love it.

Suddenly, I recognize the part of the movie we're on. This is the scene in that stormy alleyway, leading up to the famous upside-down wet kiss. I feel fiery nerves rush through my whole body. I had always wanted to do this, and I guess now's a good of a time as any. I don't care if it's the first date. Spider-Man and MJ lock lips, and I look over at Cas, who's now looking down at the carpet. I hook my index finger under his chin, turn his head to face me, and we lock eyes before I kiss him. At first, it's just me, and then he joins in. I try to slip my tongue past his teeth, but he won't let it through, so we keep it sweet. We keep it innocent.

Castiel's affection is one I've never had before. It's not rough, or with a feeling of regret. It's here and it's now, and it's sweet and soft and kind. I get the feeling that he's not looking for anything more than just this, although in the heat of the moment, I want so badly to wrangle him out of his sweatshirt and jeans and go a little further.

Still kissing tenderly and passionately, I move my hand from the side of his face to his belt buckle and my lips to the place where his jaw meets his neck. I try to undo his belt, but he grabs my hand and places it back where it should be. In between kisses, he says, "I'm asexual, Dean. Forgot to tell you that," breathing in each other's hot breath, our lips still close and barely touching, barely not touching.

We exchange a few more kisses and hair-pulls before I say, "You're just Castiel to me," and we fall back onto the couch, me on top of him, on top of the world.

End


End file.
